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Especially when she noticed Clay reaching for the foodie gift she bought him.
The PieCaken had arrived cushioned in icepacks straight from its namesake bakery yesterday.
With pecan pie on the bottom, pumpkin pie in the middle, and spice cake on top, it was a showstopper. Add the cinnamon buttercream layering it together and a generous scoop of apple pie filling, and Clay looked ready to cram the entire dessert into his mouth before anyone could ask for a taste.
“Shorty, if I loved this any more,” Clay told her, “I would put a ring on it.”
Antennae aquiver, she fluttered her wings with happiness at his praise then dove into her trove again.
“Are you serious?” Her eyes almost popped out of her head at her next big reveal. “A VR headset?”
One I special ordered six months ago in her size so she would be ready for the virtual reality features she might have mentioned once, or a million times, were coming soon to Mystic Realms.
“You’re welcome.” I threw a shiny bow at her. “Aren’t you glad you kept going?”
“Yes,” she squealed, spinning in the air with the box clutched to her chest. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
Armed with a shiny new headset and with credits to burn, I might never see that kid again.
“Rue,” Clay breathed after tearing into the present from me. “Are you serious?”
Aside from a full sampling of my wig haircare line, which hadn’t launched yet, I had given him a dream.
“What is it?” Colby peeked over, headset in place. “Are you…crying?”
“The New York City Wine & Food Festival.” He held his tickets over where his heart should be. “Intimate dinners, tastings, demonstrations, master classes.” He fell backward on the couch. “I’m going to meet Giada.” He shut his eyes. “Giada is going to cook for me.” His lashes fluttered. “I’m going to eat Giada’s food.”
The love of his life, now that Julia Child was an impossibility, was Giada De Laurentiis.
Asa, not to be outdone, had booked the hotel, plane tickets, and a driver for his friend.
When Asa passed over the itinerary, I noticed he wasn’t opening his gifts. He was smoothing a hand over the packages, tugging on the curls of ribbon, reading each tag, front and back.
Sinking down next to him, I touched his arm. “Do I have to lick each one to get you interested?”
“I’m interested.” His gaze fell to my lips. “This is my first Christmas with…family.”
Most paras didn’t celebrate human holidays in any religious sense. They just liked the excuses to eat, buy gifts, receive gifts, eat some more, and spend time with loved ones. Plus, most para children attended human schools, and most paras held human jobs. They got the time off, so why not indulge? And, you know, distract the kids with new toys while they’re underfoot for two or three weeks.
“Do you want to open them later?” I rubbed circles on his back. “You don’t have to be part of the spectacle.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I just wanted a moment.”
“Let the man attempt to manifest X-ray vision.” Clay threw a wad of tissue paper at me. “Open yours.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice.” I grabbed for the biggest box, of course. “A KitchenAid stand mixer.” I cuddled the box to me. “I’ve always wanted one of these.”
They weighed a ton, so they hadn’t been practical when Clay and I were first partners. Then I spent every penny I had on the house, the business, and the start of my new life. There had been no room in the budget to celebrate by purchasing a fancy-pants mixer when a generic one would do.
“Light and Shadow,” Colby read off the box. “That’s the color? It looks off-white to me.”
“Shh.” I rested my cheek on the box and stroked the side. “She didn’t mean it.”
The fine print called it sand-toned, and it came with a studded black ceramic mixing bowl.
“That was from me,” Clay informed me. “Not that you bothered to check the tag, heathen.”
“Thank you.” I kept petting the box. “It’s everything I never knew I needed and then some.”
